"Admetos? What happened to him?!"
Before Hercules’ inquiry, the servant bit his lip, maintaining silence.
"Speak!"
Hercules’ eyes were bloodshot with agitation as he roared, even subconsciously raising his fist.
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"That’s enough, you should not trouble him further."
Clad in a black veil, the queen of Thessaly emerged from behind the corner of the corridor, holding back the grief on her face with difficulty as she spoke solemnly.
"During the time, you were resting, my husband has been buried; his grave is on the barren mountain outside the city."
"Admetos... is dead?"
Even though Hercules had an inkling, upon hearing the dire news, he still found it somewhat unbelievable.
"How did he die?"
"The divinity that burned too many times withered the life within him. After entertaining you that night, he was called by divine mercy and went to the Netherworld."
"Why didn’t you tell me?"
"He probably didn’t want you to worry, and didn’t want you to feel guilty..."
The queen answered softly, and then, looking at the devastated, mighty man, she sighed.
"My husband was buried on the barren mountain outside the city, I can take you there to pay your respects if you wish."
"Take me there!"
Hercules suddenly lifted his head and dragged the queen along as they walked out of Thessaly City.
Only when he arrived at the barren mountain and saw the freshly piled tomb did the last bit of hope in his heart finally dissipate, and he sat down, dispirited, in front of the grave.
"Thessaly is not a place for you to stay long; it’s time to go back..."
Just as the queen remembered her husband’s entreaty and wanted to advise Hercules to leave, the figure in front of the tomb suddenly surged up and punched down the gravestone.
"What are you doing?!"
The queen exclaimed in alarm, about to intervene, but saw Hercules was already digging up the grave with his bare hands, opening the coffin, tightly grasping the still-warm hand of his friend, and speaking with resolve.
"Bring him back to life!"
As he spoke, patterns of light danced over Hercules’ body, his fist forcefully struck the ground, and a dark vortex undulated, from which a three-headed hellhound growled as it poked out its head, only to be dragged out by the scruff of its neck by Hercules before it could react.
Seeing the opponent’s appearance, the three heads of Cerberus shivered and whimpered.
Not this scourge again! Last time it dragged me out for no reason and punched me repeatedly, even branding me afterward.
"Cerberus, let me into the Netherworld!"
At that moment, Hercules tightened his grip, applying pressure, and coldly threatened, not the least bit afraid of the fearsome and well-known hellhound.
—The Twelve Glories, presenting twelve immensely difficult challenges as trials to foster one’s growth and establish an immortal legacy.
These were the revelations given to him by Father God Zeus and The Three Fates, and in his years of travel across the city-states of Greece, he had already completed an impressive nine.
Bringing the hellhound Cerberus to the Mortal World was one among them.
Although this guardian dog of the Netherworld was fierce and mighty, it seemed he was mightier.
Perhaps by having this "Hound of the Underworld King" as his guide, he could find the unjudged soul of his friend Admetos in the Elysian Fields and resurrect him.
Just as Hercules was set on his plan, ready to put it into action, Cerberus, whom he was rubbing into the ground, suddenly sniffed, its three joyfully barking heads looking excitedly toward a certain spot.
A figure in black robes emerged from the twilight, and a scornful sneer came from the fog-like face beneath the hood.
"Do you think you can defy the laws of life and death?"
"I plan to try!"
Hercules lifted his head and spoke seriously before releasing the restless hellhound in his embrace, inch by inch drawing the nameless ax-sword from the Magic Circle Diagram, and rushing determinedly toward the dark figure.
The God of Death Thanatos, eh? Come, let’s battle!
"Clang!"
A grating sound of metal clashed in the air, the heavy ax-sword effortlessly caught between two pale fingers.
Facing the incomparable resistance before him, Hercules’ eyelid twitched as the divine power within him surged like a fountain, turning into a dazzling red and black flame that covered the ax-sword, forming nine powerful slashes forward.
"Boom boom boom boom!"
In the deafening blasts, the ground cracked open with nine abyssal fissures, with the surrounding forests and rocks caught in it, all pulverized to dust, and even the space seemed to be cleaved by the dazzling red light.
—Hundred-Headed Shooter, his proud combat skill.
In helping a city-state withstand a Beast Tide invasion, he alone penetrated deep into enemy territory, slaying countless Magic Beasts and finally killing a group of Hydra which were acting as the leader, thereby forging this fierce close-range fighting move.
However, emerging from the spreading dust, the black figure at the forefront of the attack merely took one step backward, still unharmed.
A step?
Hercules’ pupils contracted, and immediately he swung the nameless ax-sword in his hand, launching a flurry of rapid attacks.
The pitch-black red and black edges moved as fast as lightning, dense as pouring rain, swinging wide then becoming tricky and vicious, constantly switching styles like flowing water, making it impossible to guard against.
Hundred-Headed Shooter was not a fixed technique, but rather a comprehension, a school of thought.
In his hands, sword, shield, spear, bow, all became weapons, every move a potential strike.
But no matter how the red and black light swelled like the waves of a sea, the black figure before him stood like a rock facing the sea, immovable as Mount Tai.
Moving a step, lifting a hand;